Before entering the menagerie let us look at the huge cannon standing here outside the dressing-tent. It looks like a ponderous affair, but investigation shows that it is made of wood. There is a latitudinal slit at the lower end and a lever. It requires an effort to push the lever back which indicates that there is a pretty strong spring in the bottom of the cannon. This is the piece of ordnance that Zazel is shot out of into a net some distance away. She lies on her back in the cannon, which is tilted to an angle of about forty-five degrees, assumes a rigid position, and at the word fire the lever is pulled back, the spring released, a pistol is fired, and while Zazel is coming through the air a little cloud of smoke rolls from the cannon's mouth and is swept away almost before she lands on her back in the net. Sig. Farini says Zazel is his daughter. Barnum says that when he was in London where Zazel was doing the cannon act, creating a great furore, the pretty little French girl came to him crying and asked to be taken away. She was only getting about six dollars a week for the perilous work she was doing and Farini was drawing a large salary out of which she got this pittance.

Sig. Farini also owns the Zulus that have appeared here. As their manager he is well paid for them, and as the Zulus sleep in the menagerie tent and have but few wants and he gives them about a dollar a day—so Barnum says—Cetawayo's subjects are a profitable investment for him. Zulu Charley on exhibition in New York gets the magnificent sum of one dollar a day for doing his native war-dance and standing fire under the numerous eyes that are leveled at him daily. There is a bit of romance about this black warrior. Among the crowds who thronged to see the antics of the Zulus at Bunnell's Dime Museum, New York City, last winter, was an Italian girl named Anita G. Corsini, eighteen years old, a music teacher by occupation, and the daughter of a Mr. Corsini who is in business in New York. Zulu Charley won her admiration and love, and she spent many quarters from her hard-earned savings to see the dusky object of her affections. Charlie did not repel her affections and they swore to be true to each other. Mr. Corsini, however, did not regard with favor the prospect of a marriage between his daughter and a negro, and did everything in his power to dissuade her from carrying out her intention. Last week, however, the couple eloped, but while on their way to a minister's house they were arrested at the instance of Anita's father.

When the case came up on the following morning in the Jefferson Market court the father wanted to have the girl sent to Blackwell's Island, but upon her promise to obey him and leave the Zulu he changed his mind and took her home. But she again met Charley and, accompanied by another Zulu named Usikali, and Charles Richards, a white man, they went to the residence of the Rev. R.O. Page, Brooklyn, and asked to be married. The minister consented, but he seems to have made a mistake, addressing all the questions to Usikali instead of to Charley, and then pronounced them man and wife. On learning his mistake, however, he performed another ceremony between the right parties. The newly married couple then went to the museum, where the bridegroom took part in the usual Zulu war-dance.

The tattooed Greek Costentenus with his picture-covered flesh is always an object of admiration to the ladies. He says he was tattooed into his present shape by Chinese Tartars and tells a harrowing story of his sufferings.

The torturing doesn't seem to have impaired his health or bothered his appetite any. He is a magnificent looking man physically and in his unstripped condition is a figure that the eye of an artist would delight to dwell upon. His only rival is a lady who is now on exhibition in England and whose breast and upper and lower limbs are covered with tattooing. I do not know her history, but she probably submitted to the process to make money out of it. Dr. Lacassagne, a French physician, has published a book on the habit of tattooing as practised in the French army. There are professional tattooers in Paris and Lyons who charge half a franc for each design. Generally the tattooer has cartoons on paper and reproduces these on the skin by a mechanical process. Large designs cost a good deal; a big representation of an Indian holding up the flag of the United States costs the decorated person fifteen francs. China ink is the coloring substance preferred, touched up with vermilion. Dr. Lacassagne has collected one thousand three hundred and thirty-three designs, tattooed on three hundred and seventy-eight members of the Second African Battalion or on men under arrest in military prisons. Many were tattooed on every part of the body except the inner side of the thighs. Patriotic and religious designs and inscriptions amounted to ninety-one. There were two hundred and eighty amorous and erotic devices and three hundred and forty-four works of pure fantasy, such as ladies driving in a carriage, the horses plunging and servants rushing to their heads. The great efforts of art are reserved for the surfaces of the breast and back. The subjects of many of the drawings are best left undescribed, the imagination of a dissipated soldier being quite savage in its purity. Among patriotic and religious emblems are cited two devils, nine theological virtues, six crucifixes, two sisters of charity, three heads of Prussians, not flattered, and five portraits of ideal girls of Alsace, with no fewer than thirty-four busts of the republic. Among animals the lion and the serpent are the favorite totems. Among flowers the pansy is generally preferred. The Æsthetic classes will be grieved to hear that not a single lily appears, and there was only one daisy. Among mythological subjects the sirens are the greatest favorites; next comes Bacchus with his pards, Venus, Apollo and Cupid.

Gen. Tom Thumb and his agreeable little wife are once more swinging around the sawdust circle with their old friend Barnum. Gen. Thumb is the most successful dwarf the world has ever seen. He is rich and as happy as if he and his wife were as tall as Captain and Mrs. Bates, the giant and giantess whose immense forms loom up above the crowds that throng the menagerie tent. I have written elsewhere about captain and his wife.

"Tummy T'um is ze worst bluff at pokair I ever saw," said Campanini one day, in a confidential mood; "I ride wiz heem in sefenty-seex from Pittsburg to Veeling, and he loose me elefen dollars on a pair of deuces. Ze Generale is a bad man at ze national game." Campanini, it is well known, is exceedingly economical, and the loss of eleven dollars he gulped down as well as he could, sinking it away below the region of his lower register. It was a misfortune he will never be able to forget entirely, but General Thomas Thumb is a perfect basilisk to the distinguished tenor. Whenever their shows exhibit in the same town the singer looks up the dwarf and challenges him to a game of chance. They last met in St. Louis, a short time before Campanini's departure for Europe, and oddly enough they settled on a game of billiards, although probably for prudential reasons on Campanini's part, as it was impossible for Tom Thumb to win such a disastrous sum as eleven dollars from the Italian at that manly game.

The game took place in the principal billiard-room of St. Louis, and it was rendered doubly interesting by the fact that Charles Mapleson, faultlessly attired, kept the talley. A great crowd was soon attracted into the room, and the only regret of the two distinguished players was that they had not charged a general admission, reserved seats extra.

As the game proceeded Campanini grew excited, and the sonorous notes of his full, rich voice resounded through the corridors of the great hotel. This, in turn, irritated the General, and his weak, piping tones, with a tinge of anger in them, contrasted strangely with the Italian's. The crowd laughed, and Campanini unconsciously exhibited some of the richest treasures of his stock-in-trade, while the General grew desperate and absolutely tried to reach across the table.

"Fefteen," shouted Campanini.

Failing in his first effort, the General again tried to accomplish the impossible. "Fefteen," Campanini shouted once more.

Just then Charles stepped forward and offered to lift up little Hop-o' My Thumb.

"Who is playing this game, anyhow?" the General fiercely demanded.

"Fefteen," again shouted Campanini.

"That makes three times the bloody Italian has said 'fefteen,'" Thumb remarked, regaining his lost temper, and then to Campanini's dismay he proceeded leisurely to win the game.

"Elefen dollars at pokair, twenty-five cents at billiards—elefen twenty-five," the tenor kept muttering during the rest of the day, and that night at the opera Col. Mapleson could not understand why Campanini was so hoarse.

The "Wild Ape of Borneo" seems to be quite an intelligent animal and displays first-rate taste in choosing his company. He has learned by experience that girls were made to be hugged and kissed. Through the bars of his cage he has seen many a rural lass's waist in the power of a plough-boy's arm, and watched their lips meet in a smack that more than discounted the old minstrel joke about the sound resembling the noise made by a cow pulling her hoof out of the mud. It was no wonder, then, that when the "wild ape" got out of his cage, while the circus was exhibiting down South, he forgot all his Borneo breeding, and made a rush for one of the prettiest girls under the flapping canvas. He got one arm around her neck and with the paw that was free caught her chignon and made a desperate effort to obtain a kiss. The girl's escort was at first terrified and felt like climbing one of the quarter-poles, all the females in the neighborhood shrieked, and the males began to dive under their seats. At last a gentleman rushed up with drawn revolver and fired a shot close to the ape's ear, whereupon he at once abandoned his osculatory efforts, and made his escape.

A curiosity that has been before the public for almost twenty years is the "two-headed woman," Millie Christine. The fact of the matter is that there are two women joined together below the waist, but as they have a single physical organization their manager has seen fit to call them one. This freak of nature is more astonishing than were the Siamese twins or the Hungarian sisters. The two-headed woman was born of slave parents on the plantation of Alexander McCoy near the town of Whiteville, Columbus County, North Carolina, on July 11, 1851. Prior to this Millie Christine's mother had given birth to five boys and two girls, all of ordinary size and without deformity. The "two-headed woman" will be best understood by reading an extract from a lecture by Prof. Pancoast of the Jefferson Medical College, Philadelphia. The Professor examined this curiosity and discussed upon the subject before a large gathering of medical men. In introducing Millie and Christine, he said he considered them the most interesting monstrosity of their class that has ever come under the notice of scientific men, far more interesting than the Siamese twins. In the midst of his discourse the young ladies entered, clad in green silk on their two bodies, pretty little bronze boots on their four feet, white kids on their four hands. They moved forward like an expanded V, with a crab-like movement that was not ungraceful. Born back-to-back; the Professor explained that the natural desire of each to walk face forward had twisted them in their present position. Separate entities, separate individualities, each can pursue separate lines of thought and conversation independent of the other. From habit their appetites call for food and drink at the same time. All the ills of flesh are not, however, necessarily theirs in common. One may have the toothache and the other be free from any ache. But in the examination conducted to-day the Professor discovered a remarkable development of sensibility since his previous examination, eight years ago. Touching them on any extreme of the body, on any foot, for example, both in common were conscious of the touch. Christine has been and is now the larger and stronger of the two. As children they used to have little struggles and quarrels for supremacy, but, as they could not get away from each other, they early concluded that the best way to get along in their novel path through life was to yield to each other. Their present happiness and affection for each other is an example for couples who are yoked together in marital bonds. Sometimes Christine rolls over Millie in bed without awakening her. Both can sleep separately. They can stand and walk on their outside legs, but they prefer to walk on all fours. Millie cannot lift up Christine's legs, or Christine Millie's legs. Since the Hungarian sisters, there has been no similar case reported reaching adult life for one hundred and seventy years. The bond of union between these, which is just above the bones of the spine, is chiefly cartilaginous, but the spines are so closely approximated that there is an osseous union between them. To the question by Professor Pancoast, whether either was engaged to be married, each denied the soft impeachment with decision, though the Professor explained that physically there are no serious objections to the marriage of Her or Them; but morally there was a most decided one. During the Professor's lecture the Misses Christine Millie and Millie Christine appeared very much interested in the diagnosis of their singular condition and evidenced their superior intelligence by their apt and ready answers.

Turning from the human to the zoological branch of the exhibition, we find the usual assortment of animals from the monkey up to Jumbo, the elephant, who is only one of a dozen in the possession of his owner. All performing elephants are well trained, and there is scarcely one that cannot figure in the ring, responding to the good advice of the trainer, as the keepers often style themselves. The monkeys are always a source of amusement, and never loose their drawing power. They are intelligent animals, but the inclination they have for mischief makes them quite dangerous. They tell a funny story about an actor out West who had a pet monkey that he carried with him wherever he went, even to the theatre. Jocko appeared to be perfectly harmless, and as he had been at the theatre night after night without making trouble, his master never dreamed that he would do anything out of the way. Imagine his surprise therefore when one night as he was in the midst of a comedy part down came Jocko from the "flies" with a false face he had filched out of the property-room. His appearance brought down the house and the play was spoiled.

A traveller in Japan writing about the amusements there tells us of a very remarkable Sigmian specimen. He says: "There is an unpretentious show, costing one cent to witness, that is full of interest to those who have leanings toward Darwin's theory of the origin of mankind. It has a trained monkey of no mean attainments. The creature stands upright about three feet high, a well-developed and intellectual-looking monkey, which will go through all the posturing known to the famous India-rubber man, and some that that famous individual could not throw himself into, but the crowning feat that he has been taught is to dance the Japanese dance to perfection, taking the exact step, having the correct sway of the body, keeping time faultlessly, and using his arms and hands in exact accord with the movements of the feet. It is difficult to realize that a dumb brute can be educated as completely as this creature is. Oscar Wilde and this monkey would make a strong partnership in the platform business, for the monkey is certainly an Æsthete—"a darling and a daisy."

If any reader wants to buy a menagerie he can obtain his curiosities from dealers in New York or Europe. He must have plenty of money though, as the prices of animals range high, as will be seen in the following figures: An elephant may be had for $16,000; lion and lioness with cage, $9,000; sea cow, $8,000; pair of large leopards and two smaller ditto, $5,000; Australian kangaroo, $2,000; Australian wombat, $12,000; ostrich, $1,000; royal tiger, $5,000; sacred camel, $2,000; rare birds, monkeys and lesser animals, including those of American nativity, $20,000; total, $60,000.

Among the rarest animals, says a writer on this subject, are the hippopotamus and the gnu, or horned-horse. A first-class hippopotamus is worth five or six thousand dollars, an elephant from three to six thousand dollars, a giraffe is worth about three thousand dollars, a Bengal tiger or tigress will bring two thousand dollars, leopards vary from six to nine hundred dollars, a hyena is worth about five hundred dollars, while an ostrich rates at three hundred dollars. The price-list shows that, although expenses may be heavy, receipts are proportionately large, and that it does not require many large beasts to make a good business for one trader. A New York house in three years sold twenty lions, twelve elephants, six giraffes, four Bengal tigers, eight leopards, eight hyenas, twelve ostriches and two hippopotami, being a total business of about $112,000, or over $37,000 per annum, in the line of larger beasts alone, exclusive of the smaller show-beasts, such as monkeys, and exclusive also of birds, which latter items more than double the amount given. Gnus, or horned-horses, have come into great demand of late years, both from their oddity and rarity, and are valued at seventeen or eighteen hundred dollars apiece. An elephant is always in demand, and sells, whether it be male or female, large or small, "trick" or otherwise. Ostriches, though heavy eaters, are not very expensive, as they have cast-iron stomachs and digest stone, glass, iron, or almost anything else that one chooses to give them, though they are judges of good meat when they get it. They are not the only creatures that eat glass. Heller or Houdin—I forget which of these magicians—found a taste among Oriental jugglers for pounded glass, which they ate in large quantities. A trial by the Caucasian trickster developed the fact that glass was not only not injurious when taken in reasonable doses, but that it served as an appetizer, stimulating the stomach to hunger after food. There are two species of ostrich known to the trade, the black and the gray; both are very strong, fleet, and practically untamable. Lions, tigers and leopards form constituent attractions of almost all menageries, and are too familiar to need description. It may be here remembered, however, that people who deal with these creatures find that there is comparatively little danger to themselves to be dreaded from either lions or lionesses. These animals never attack any human being, save when excessively hungry; and when enraged, from any cause, always show such visible signs as put their keepers on their guard; whereas, the opposite of these statements is true in regard to tigers and leopards—the latter especially, which are regarded by those in the trade as the most dangerous, cruel and treacherous of all the beasts with which they are brought in contact. American lions or jaguars, and American or Brazilian tigers are very fierce, untamable and strong, although inferior in size to the lion or tiger proper. Of monkeys and baboons little more than has already been said need be repeated here. There are about one hundred and fifty different species of these creatures, the most intelligent of which is the ringtailed monkey, and the most stupid, that variety known as the lion monkey, from its being gifted, instead of brains, with a long mane. The variety of deer and antelope are numerous, and always find ready purchasers; the genuine antelope will bring two or three hundred dollars in the market.

A show of wild animals is one thing, and a very good thing sometimes; but the same number of wild beasts when not in show—but merely in winter quarters or out and awaiting sale, presents a different, and, sometimes, a curious spectacle. Thus in a certain back yard in the city of New York, as singular a sight is presented to the lover of animal life as is afforded probably in the range of the whole world. You enter by a low doorway, and at first glance you see only a number of boxes, with iron bars in front—amateur cages in fact—and arranged alongside of each other, just as cases may be, without the slightest order or general arrangement. If you look a second time at these boxes you will be made aware of the fact that they are inhabited by certain moving animals; for pairs of bright eyes will gleam out upon you through the iron bars and occasional switching of some beastly tails against the sides of the cages will become audible, as will every now and then a deep smothered roar. Inspecting the box-cages or cage-boxes, more closely you will see, further, that one of them contains a three-year old lion, just getting his young moustache, or, what answers the same purpose to a lion—his mane. Next box to this you will find a lioness, about the same age as her mate, a fine specimen of African female, who seems very much attached to a dog that shares her cage with her in perfect harmony, at least so far as the lioness is concerned, for she does all she can to live at peace with the dog, yielding to his wishes in all particulars, giving up her meat whenever he takes a fancy to it, and getting out of his way whenever he wishes to walk about, although doggy does not seem to be a very amiable partner, and every now and then gives the lioness a bit of his mind by biting her in the ear. A little beyond this strange couple lie two more boxes—the upper one containing a pair of young hunting leopards, as playful as young kittens, which spend their time in calling to the cats of the neighborhood, the lower one being the scene of the imprisonment of a full-grown, very handsome, very cross leopardess, who is always snarling and seeking whom or what she may devour. This latter beast has a special antipathy to a young lad who has charge of her, and tries half a dozen times a day to make mince-meat of him. On the opposite side are a number of boxes, containing monkeys of various species and baboons. One of these monkeys is a jovial female, christened Victoria, and is one of the most expert pickpockets in New York, which is saying a great deal. Vic can relieve a visitor of his watch and chain or pocket-book in a manner most refreshing to a monkey and moralist to witness, and although as ugly as sin is as quick as lightning. Next door to this kleptomaniac ape is a happy family of monkeys—father, mother and baby—who live together lively as clams at the turn of tide. On the ground, at a little distance, lies another box, which contains a monster baboon. This fellow is called Jonas, and is, without exception, the ugliest individual in existence to which the Almighty has ever given a shape—such as it is. These big apes are frequently palmed off on the public for gorillas; they are strong as giants, gentle as lambs, and can be taught tricks like dogs. As in the case of canines, severity and kindness are resorted to in training them. Prof. Harry Parker, in speaking to me about educating his dogs, said he rarely used the whip upon them, but endeavored, by properly feeding and speaking kind words to them, to make them obedient to his command, still the whip must be used. Dogs that hop around on two feet have their little limbs lashed from under them until they almost feel the sting of the rawhide in the tone of the trainer's voice. Clown dogs, which have recently been prominent features of circuses and variety shows, are taught to go through every article that is put down upon the floor by their masters; that is why they squirm through a hoop, run under and overturn chairs, pass under bundles and upset the leaping basket that is used in dog circuses. Prof. Parker and Prof. Willis Cobb, I may here remark, are the best dog-trainers in the country, and both have large and fine collections of educated canines.

In the rear portion of the yard which we have been visiting is an inclosure, in which three or four horned horses or ponies, called gnus, are digesting their rations; next to these is a case in which is confined a fretful porcupine, who shows his bristles on the least provocation, and sometimes when there is no insult meant at all. The catalogue of cages or boxes is completed by that in which is held in duress a Brazilian tiger of the fiercest possible description, who does nothing but glare upon you and want to eat you. The meat-eaters in the collection are fed only once a day—at noon—and cost about a dollar per day to feed; the fruit-eaters, like the elephant, eat all the time, as fancy prompts; while the vegetarians, like the monkeys, take their three square meals a day. As a rule, all animals enjoy a better average of health than man, because they have no acquired tastes or dissipated habits. The elephant lives for centuries; the parrot is a centenarian, while the lion lives but twenty years or so. On the whole, the average life of man is greater than that of the majority of the so-called beasts, though their average of health exceeds his.

Wax-works, of one kind or other, enter into the display made in the menagerie tent; but the figures all seem broken or enfeebled by long usage, and instead of being attractive, many of them are repulsive. How different from Madame Tussaud's exhibition—the prototype of all the efforts that have been made in the wax-work line! A correspondent who visited this display many years ago, when the display had a world-wide fame, wrote:—

"Madame Tussaud's famous exhibition of wax statuary and works in wax afforded me a very entertaining evening's occupation. Here are full-length portraits in wax of all the notables of the world; Queen Victoria, Prince Albert, the royal children, George III., Queen Charlotte, George IV., William IV., George II., Louis XIV., Emperor Louis Napoleon and his empress in their bridal costume, Henry VIII., Cardinal Wolsey, all the present sovereigns of Europe, Kossuth, Gen. Tom Thumb, etc., numbering nearly two hundred figures in all, so artistically arranged and so well executed that the effect upon the visitor on entering is the same as on coming into a grand drawing-room filled with noble ladies and gentlemen. So perfect is everything that you look to hear the figures speak, and can hardly convince yourself that they do not move.

"The second room of Madame Tussaud's exhibition is called the Robe Room, which contains the figure of George IV. wearing the order of the Garter. This robe was worn by his majesty in the procession to Westminster Abbey, at his coronation. To the right of this is the robe the same monarch wore at the opening of Parliament, and on the left the robe worn by the King in returning to Westminster Abbey after the coronation. The cost of these three robes was about $90,000. The third room of the exhibition is called the Golden Chamber, and contains relics of the Emperor Napoleon, among which is the camp bedstead used by Napoleon during his seven years at St. Helena, with the mattress and pillow on which he died; the coronation robe of Napoleon and the robe of the Empress Josephine; the celebrated flag of Elba; the sword worn by the Emperor during his campaign in Egypt, and many other relics of him. In another room is the carriage in which Napoleon made the campaign of Russia, and which was captured on the evening of the battle of Waterloo; also the carriage he used at St. Helena, in which, of course, I sat down, according to custom.

"In another room are many relics of the French Revolution, among which are the instruments by which the unfortunate Louis XIV. was beheaded, as also Robespierre and others. These are but a few of the many curious and interesting objects to be seen at this exceedingly entertaining exhibition; and I passed several hours here, quite lost in the examination of the collection and the recollections which the various articles awakened."

The menagerie, no matter how small or how extensive it may be, always has much within its cages and lying around under its canvas to interest young and old alike. It is like a volume of natural history that may be forever studied without exhausting the interest that attaches to it, and the knowledge contained in it. Thrown down after a single perusal, the book is picked up again and again, and each time its pictures and pages seem as fresh and entertaining as they were in the beginning. So, too, the collection of curiosities, that now-a-days form a very important part of every tent-show, never loses its attraction for the public. Gray-haired men who in boyhood looked, open-mouthed and astonished, into the den of lions, still find the same pleasure in contemplating these wonderful beasts from a safe distance, and take delight in making their children acquainted with them. The tangled forests and matted jungles of new regions are constantly giving up new specimens of wild animal life; and with the old reliable attractions still plentiful, and startling novelties occasionally coming to the surface, there is every reason to believe that the menagerie will retain its present hold upon the hearts of the people, and last as long as there is canvas in the world to cover one or color enough to fill an ordinary stand of bills.

Now we have seen about all there is to see. Passing out and by the side-show blower with his fat woman and lean man, his glass blower and Irish Circassian girls, his juggler, and the heartless band of music he has playing at one end of his dirty tent; we move down the street, the sound of the side-show music dies out, the canvas fades behind the house-tops, and we have left the show world with all its sunshine and shadow, its laughter and tears.